Becoming Hiccup
by BonniePride
Summary: What goes through a doll's head when someone decides to make them into a new character? This is the story of a Ken doll and his journey to becoming Hiccup. (Spoiler Warning: content from HTTYD 2)


Hey everyone! Welcome back :D This story is a little bit on the odd side- blame it on my freshman year Toy Story obsession and my overthinking everything. I've gotten really into OOAKing dolls recently-meaning that I repaint old Barbie and Ken dolls and sew clothes to make them look like characters from my favorite movies and shows. Not too long ago, I made a Hiccup doll and along the way I got to thinking: gee, what's going through his head while I'm doing this? Well, this story is the result of that. Hope you enjoy it! Leave me comments if you liked it and especially if you want to see more stories like this. Now, without further ado, "Becoming Hiccup"!

0o0

My life started out as that of a normal Ken doll. I was made in a factory, boxed up with hundreds of others, and shipped off to a Target to await sale. After a couple of months in store, I was sold off to a charming couple who wanted me as a gift for their niece's birthday. Kaylee was turning five, and I was to be her first Ken doll. She was a sweet little girl—all curls and smiles and dimples. For the most part she was a good owner, playing nicely with us. We certainly never experienced some of the horrors that I've learned so many other dolls are subjected to. I lived the usual Ken life, mainly playing minor roles in stories involving the Barbies. Scuba diver, knight, chauffer—I played all of them. Off hours, when the humans were out of the room, I hung out with some of the GI Joes that belonged to Kaylee's brother, and later on with the other Ken dolls that were purchased for her. The other guys often liked to mingle with the Barbies, going on "dates" and such. But somehow I wasn't comfortable with that. Sure in playtimes I often was the center of a romance, but it was never with one specific Barbie. Little girls don't have the longest attention spans and trade out romantic partners at the slightest whim. I didn't want that sort of lifestyle. Odd as it might seem, for a doll who was so mass produced and seemingly destined for a superficial relationships that didn't last past a single playtime, I wanted something more. Some might call it "true love", but that sounds a bit cliché, even to me. It sounded impossible, but I still dreamed of the day where I might find that one special doll that I could spend the rest of my life with. Others I voiced my thought to agreed that they had similar dreams, but as that outcome was so unlikely to happen, I was encouraged to shelve those feelings to avoid heartache. To an extent I did just that, but I never fully let go of that dream, even when my chance of finding lasting happiness took a plunge into the darkness.

I was in Kaylee's playroom for about five years, which is fairly long by toy standards. But, as with all owners, Kaylee was growing up and leaving her Barbie stage in favor of more "grownup" toys like Monster High and American Girl. I'd survived a number of cleanouts, otherwise known as toy room purges, and I was beginning to think that I was one of the lucky few who would actually stay on until her teen years or later. But no. One fateful day Kaylee's mom told her that she had too many toys and needed to get rid of some of them. I ended up in a cardboard box on the way to a thrift store. Humans seem to think that Thrift Stores are nice places, and maybe I would too if I were on their level. For certain toys, like stuffed animals, it's actually a good way to find new homes. But what they do to Barbies and Kens in those places is just inhuman. Most of us, sadly, are donated without clothes (children deigning to keep the outfits for the dolls that aren't being donated.) You have no idea what it's like to be shove into a plastic bag and hung up on the wall like so much dirty laundry for eager to be pawed through by eager shoppers looking for a good deal. Heaven knows how many of us don't even get sold and get discarded, or else are given to kids as a cheap way to mollify them and are quietly disposed of later. I didn't personally witness any of this happening, but there were whispers among the other dolls when the doors were shut and everyone had left for the night. I was lucky enough to be in my own bag—other dolls were forced to share the already cramped space with one or two others. The Even worse, most of us were hung upside down, as if all of the other indignities weren't enough and they had to torture us further. I was on "the wall" for about two weeks. I saw dolls come and go at an alarming rate. All I could do was pray that when my time came, I would at least go to a decent owner.

It was midafternoon when she came in. Things were fairly slow, and one of the thrift store employees (I fairly pleasant girl named Mina) was restocking the shelves with some of the new toys that had come in. Normally I wouldn't have taken too much notice of a shopper, but this one surprised me. She came hurrying across the back of the store from the book section, looking like she was on a mission. What shocked me about her was her age. She was certainly in her teens, if not older—not the usual clientele in the market for toys. And yet here she was, looking as eager as a month-old puppy. She paused briefly to check the cart of new toys, and then circled the stands of smaller stuffed animals. But as she looked, her eyes kept darting over to our wall. I wondered at first if she was looking for an inexpensive gift for a younger sibling, but the way her eyes sparkled with excitement as she surveyed us made me think otherwise. With determined fervor, she started looking through the bags of dolls, sometimes cocking her head with curiosity, other times smiling and pulling a back off of a hook. As she came to me, I swear I saw her face light up with excitement. "Hiccup," she whispered. I wondered what on Earth she meant by that, but she quickly unlooped my bang from the rack and added me to her armload. At that point I had no idea what I had no idea what I was getting into, or for that matter what she even meant by "Hiccup". I couldn't understand why someone her age would want Barbie dolls, let alone men. The question tumbled over in my mind as she went through the rest of the store and finally made her way up to the register. "I cleared out the toy department," she told the cashier with a laugh as she placed us all on the counter. I could hear a note of embarrassment in her voice, as if she knew that she was technically too old for dolls, but there was a note fierce, if not rebellious look in her eyes as if she didn't much care what others thought. Then I was put into a plastic bag and I couldn't see anything.

For the next hour or so I rode in a car. I could tell by the noises that the girl made a few stops. As she drove I learned that her name was Bonnie. How did I find that out? She actually talked to us as she drove, both out loud and internally. I guess I should explain what I mean by talking to us "internally". There are two ways in which humans communicate with toys. There's the obvious way, talking out loud, that everyone can hear. But there's also an inner conversation that sometimes occurs, mainly in children. As you have probably observed, many children play silently with their toys when others are around, and in that silence and entire story, a creation of a separate reality, is taking place. Toys, have learned to tap into that separate reality, and sometimes during the playtime the child's imagination becomes real to them. Don't worry, toys can't read minds or anything and don't tend to intrude on their owners thoughts unless invited to or in extreme emergencies. It has to be a fairly conscious effort on the human's part to contact the toy. Most adults and even teenagers tend to lose this ability from lack of use. But this girl, for some reason, still had it and was actively using it. I only caught bits and pieces, as most over her thoughts were being sent to other dolls—the toddler Cinderella, for example. But I did get a few images, mainly of a young lad who unfamiliar to me and many time the word "Hiccup". I didn't know until later what exactly the significance of this was, but it was to be great.

Eventually we arrived at a house, and the girl carried all of us inside. I heard her talking to an older woman—her mother, it turned out—and a few of the dolls were shown off. Not me, though. I could tell from the slightly embarrassed way in which she referred to the "other dolls" in her bags that it was probably because she was trying to protect our modesty, and for that I was grateful. She said something about "repainting", but I didn't have a clue what she was talking about and decided that she must be referring to an art project. After the dolls she was going to show had been displayed, moved the rest of us up to a small cubicle which she called her "office", and there I sat for quite some time.

At some part Bonnie pulled me out and wrapped green fabric around me. It took me a moment to realize what she was doing, but once she started cutting arm holes I realized that she was making me a shirt. For a few seconds I almost smiled. So she was an artist, and apparently she liked to make doll clothes. "How thoughtful," I thought. But then she pulled out a bottle of white paint and before I knew it, I wet substance was being put over my eyes and my world went dark.

Later on one of the dolls Bonnie had also been working on, a Rapunzel being turned into a Honey Lemon who hadn't required any paint, told me that Bonnie had painted over my eyes—standard procedure when creating a "One of a Kind", or OOAK , doll. But I didn't know that, and what happens during the time that the eyes are being repainted is something which no human knows about. Even if it only takes a few seconds (and trust me, mine took much longer than that), if a doll is either becoming a character or becoming a new character there is a change that occurs in the doll's psych and spirit which is almost impossible to explain. I will try my best to describe my experience, though, so you can understand what happened to me.

At first all I saw was darkness—the base coat of paint blocked out any view of the outside world. Then, out of the darkness appeared a young boy. He had bright green eyes, floppy brown hair, and was a bit on the gangly side. I had never seen him before, yet somehow he looked oddly familiar. I wanted to call out to him, to ask who he was, but before I could he opened a door that led out of the darkness and into light. He motioned with a smile for me to walk through, and I did so. As I passed through it, I had the strangest sensation, as if the boy and I were somehow becoming one—which, in fact, we were. I looked down and realized with a gasp that I had become the boy. I've heard that this is a fairly common experience for humans in dreams, this becoming someone else. But this was more than a dream—it had actually happened, and suddenly I found myself entering into the boy's life. I was outside, dodging fire coming from the sky. Soon I discovered that the flames were coming from a rather alarming source—dragons. I ducked into the nearest building and was greeted by a funny-looking man who was missing an arm and a leg which had been replaced with crude prosthetics. Instinctively I knew that his name was Gobber and was someone who had been of great importance in the boy's life—my?—life. He handed me a sword, telling me to sharpen it. Somehow I knew exactly what to do, and was comfortable enough with doing it that I even took notice of a pretty young Viking girl outside the window. I wanted to figure out why I felt such a strong connection to her, but I became distracted by the banter that Gobber was having with the boy. Through their conversation, I learned that the lad's name was Hiccup, although the rest of their dialogue went somewhat over my head. Something about wanting to kill a dragon? In playtimes, I'd once or twice gone up against imaginary dragons, but never had I thought I'd actually go up against a real one. But as soon as Gobber left the room, I found myself racing out the back door with an oddly built catapult. Up on a hillside, I took aim, not sure exactly what I was waiting for. But then there was a flash of light and I released the lever. I heard the weighted net connect and let out a cheer, as much from victory as relief. Maybe now whatever had taken hold of me would now let me return inside since the goal of taking down a dragon had apparently been achieved. But no, fate had other plans. As I turned back around, I was faced with another dragon, and for once my reaction and Hiccup's was the same: make a run for it. The beast was stubborn and chased me all the way back to the village. It didn't cross my mind to try to fight it. I knew I couldn't take it down a dragon without any sort of weapon. Fortunately, an older Viking leaped into action and fought the dragon off. Unfortunately, the dragon had had managed to cause quite a bit of damage to the village while chasing me. I cringed as a large torch, one of the main lighting structures for the village, toppled over into the sea. When I turned back around to thank the Viking who had saved me, I saw the angry scowl on his face and said the only thing I could. "Sorry…dad."

I realized with a start that this must be Hiccup's (my?) father. Hoping to save face for both of us, I tried to explain that I had actually managed to hit a dragon. But Hiccup's dad wasn't hearing it. He told Gobber to take me back to the house, because he had my mess to clean up. I felt somewhat ashamed of what had happened, but all the way back Hiccup complained about how his father never listened to him, never put any value in his accomplishments. I learned a lot about his relationship about his dad, or "Stoic" as he was called, on that walk—namely, that it wasn't a good one. Personally, I thought that Hiccup had been in enough trouble for one day, but as soon as Gobber dropped me off at the house, he took off through the back door to find the dragon I (we?) had shot down earlier. Eventually we found it downed in a clearing. I felt Hiccup's elation for a moment, but then almost instantly his terror as it was revealed that the dragon was still very much alive. Hiccup pulled out a knife and lifted it up, telling the dragon that he was going to cut off its head and take it to his father. I was in perfect agreement—that's what normally happened with dragons. They were evil, so they were killed, simple as that. But as I looked down into the dragon's eyes, I suddenly felt a spark of uncertainty. This dragon didn't appear to be bad. If anything, it appeared defenseless and terrified. It rolled its head to the side, as if accepting its fate. Hiccup lifted his knife again, as if to do the deed, but then I found the wherewithal to internally shout "Stop!" And that was the turning point. I don't know if Hiccup came fully into me, or I came fully into Hiccup, but suddenly we were in perfect unison. It stopped being him doing things as I was dragged helplessly along. In fact, it stopped being two people at all. It was just me, as Hiccup, one person. Things went quickly from there. I freed the dragon, whom I named Toothless. Eventually I not only made friends with him but learned how to ride him. I stood up to my dad and convince him (at the cost of almost losing my life and actually losing part of my leg) that dragon's weren't all bad. Along the way I somehow won the heart of the amazing girl I'd seen that first night, whose name was Astrid, and with her help I started a dragon academy to help teach the other Vikings how to better get along with the dragons. Somewhere along the line, I actually woke up for a brief time, but Bonnie apparently wasn't finished yet, and re-painted over my eyes and sent me on another crazy adventure. In this one I had to help defend the island from a deranged man who wanted to take all of our dragons. Along the way I found my mom, lost my dad, almost lost Toothless, and ended up becoming chief of the village.

When I finally woke up this time, it was for good. It was weird being back as a toy, lying inert on a desk after all that adventuring, but somehow it also felt right. I've since learned that many toys who are manufactured to be characters have similar experiences before waking up in their packages. The experience is so life-like that often times new toys are confused and have to be convinced that they are toys, not the actual characters. For me, I later discovered that these adventures came from Bonnie's memories of the movies and TV shows (very strong memories, I might add, from watching them so many times) and were transferred to me. In my case, having already had life experience as a toy, I was able to resolve the two realities with greater ease. It was a little bit strange at first, not having all of my friends and families from the adventures around me, but at least I still had them in memory as I continued on. Bonnie had finished the shirt—a tunic, really—while I was out, but the physical changes to make me truly Hiccup on the outside were still underway. She used a brown marker to darken my hair and glue to flatten it. Freckles were painted onto my cheeks, and a leather belt and fur vest were added over the tunic. Black leggings were created using a marker. There was one slightly scary experience, in which Bonnie used a knife to saw off the lower half of my one leg. I managed to get through that by reminding myself that as Hiccup I'd lost my leg in a fire a long time ago. At least this time around it didn't hurt. (In case you're wondering, yes toys can experience pain, but we have also have the ability to turn our senses off when needed. On top of that, I could fell Bonnie sending mental block to try to try to stop any pain from coming to me as she cut, and I appreciated the effort.) Soon after she cut the leg off, she attached a wooden limb to the stump and put a rather nice boot on the other foot, both of which I was rather pleased with. At long last, I was convinced that Bonnie was finished with me, but for some reason even as she surveyed her work she was frowning.

"Something's still not right," she muttered. I could only guess that she meant my eyes—she had repainted them so many times that I wasn't even experiencing adventures anymore when she painted over them. She also muttered something about my being too muscular to be Hiccup, which I couldn't deny (Hiccup was a little on the scrawny side, even though he had filled out a little in his later adventure.) For a full minute she debated out loud about trying to turn me into another character, which sent me into panic mode. I had handled becoming Hiccup fairly well, but I didn't want to have to go through all of it again to become someone else. Then Bonnie's eyes lit up and she rushed off. I was tempted to get up and try to find some comfort from some of the friends that I'd mad while in the office, but Bonnie came running back before I could even fully stand (the new peg leg was taking some getting used to.) I flopped back down on the table just as she entered holding another doll. I couldn't see her very well at first, even when Bonnie stood us up side-by-side. "Yes, perfect! That's how I should have been doing the eyes. No wonder he didn't look right," she said with a nod. She ducked back down below her desk to find the needed supplies, and I risked a glance over at the other doll. To my utter shock and amazement, I was looking right at Astrid! I almost fell right over, and probably would have if she hadn't put out a hand to stop me. Astrid only had time for a wink before we had to snap back into position, but that was enough. I was still trying to process through it as Ashley painted on the white layer for the last time, but apparently she had subconsciously picked up on what was passing between us because I ended up back in the village, in a time I was to discover that hadn't even occurred yet in the actual stories. It was total imagination at work, and I found myself years older than when I had last visited—closer to the age I appeared to be as a toy. In my absence I had become more muscular and even grown a goatee. Astrid was sitting next to me on a grassy hill on a starlit night. She was older too, but prettier than ever. I wondered if this was the Astrid from my "memories", or if somehow the doll Astrid had made her way into this too. I got my answer quicker than I expected.

"So, 'Hiccup'." She raised an eyebrow and smiled when she said my name. "I was wondering if Bonnie was ever going to make you. She's been talking about it for a while, but she was so busy making other characters that I put if off as wishful thinking."

"You-you know what's going on?" I gasped in surprised. "About the fact that we're—"

"Dolls?" Astrid leaned back and laughed. "Of course I do."

"But how?" I spluttered. "I thought that I only got memories of happened in the films."

"Usually," Astrid agreed. "But this isn't anything that's happened in the films."

"Oh." I was still somewhat confused, but even more so embarrassed that Astrid obviously knew more than I did.

"Bonnie's got a really strong imagination," Astrid finally told me. "While she's working on you, she's imaging what we might be saying to each other and her imagination's giving us a setting in which we can talk."

"So wait…" I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Am I talking to Bonnie or Astrid?"

"Oh definitely Astrid," Astrid replied breezily. "Bonnie's distracted with painting, so there's freedom in here for us to talk for ourselves." After a pause, she queried, "So, what's your story?"

"Uh, Ken doll who got sent to a thrift store," I explained a little sheepishly. "You?"

"Dollar Store doll destined for the trash after a few playtimes," Astrid told me with a shrug. "Bonnie picked me out and fixed me up. I was her first repaint."

I nodded, another question popping into my head that I was slightly embarrassed to ask. "Um, so tell me," I finally got out, "Since we're in an imaginary setting right now, talking as ourselves, this is real. But all of the memories from before—are they real?"

"Yes and no." Astrid stared up at the stars, leaning her head back onto her hands. "No, we didn't physically do the things in the movies. We're toys after all, not humans. But on an internal level, in our minds and spirits, we really did go through and do them. , so I guess technically they are real."

"Ah-ha." I wasn't sure if I was more or less confused now.

"But that's not really what you want to know, I'll warrant," Astrid said suddenly, sitting up.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered nervously.

Of course you do," Astrid laughed. "Or else you wouldn't be blushing like that. You want to know if what happened between us is real, right?"

I flushed to the roots of my hair, but I couldn't deny it.

"Well, let me put your mind at ease," Astrid said with a grin. "Tell me if this feels real enough." She socked my arm, making me cry out in pain. She laughed at my reaction, and then laughed and leaned in. I could tell that she was about to kiss me, and I leaned in when suddenly—

"He's done!" Bonnie's voice snapped me back to the real world. I saw her grinning in a pleased manner, perhaps for the first time since she'd picked me up in the thrift store. With a pleased sigh she set me back down next to Astrid. Then she abruptly perked up. "Hey, I know what we need to do to celebrate!" she cried and, with that, took off.

Astrid stirred to life next to me. "Oh goodness," she laughed. "Did you hear what she's planning?"

"Can't say as I did," I replied, more concerned with the fact that Astrid was actually talking to me and the fact that our conversation had apparently actually happened.

Well, I guess you'll see soon enough," she told me teasingly. I wondered what that meant, but then Bonnie came thumping up the stairs and we both had to go still again.

Moving with dexterity, Bonnie laid a sheet of fabric across the desktop, set up flowers around us, and put two dolls next to us that I recognized from pictures as Rapunzel and Merida. I might have wondered why they were there if Bonnie wasn't mass sending pictures of the internet phenomena known as "The Big Four", or "Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons", to me. The, to my great delight, Ashley set a Toothless plush down on the desk in front of me.

"Ooh, forgot my camera!" Bonnie cried, rushing down the stairs.

"Toothless!" I called as soon as she was gone, crouching down and scratching him underneath the neck. "How ya doin' bud?"

Toothless let out a happy grunt and gave me a lick with his tongue.

"Bonnie made him a while ago," Astrid explained, crouching down and scratching him too. "Right near the beginning of summer, before I even came here."

I can't believe this." I shook my head in amazement. "Is there any other surprises I should know about?"

Oy," Merida said, walking over and giving me a hearty handshake. "Is it true we're here for a wedding? Rapunzel said that we were, but I wasn't quite getting a clear message on the way up here."

"What?" I turned to Astrid, who grinned mischievously.

"That's what I was talking about earlier," she replied. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hardly." I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to come to grips with this. "But are you okay with this?"

"Absolutely." She nodded. "Are you?"

"Astrid, this is exactly what I've always wanted," I answered honestly. And it was. Bonnie came back upstairs with her camera, and, draping a cloak of white faux fur around Astrid's shoulders, she played the first few bars of the wedding over her computer's speakers and the ceremony began. She said the words for everyone (except when she played the song "For the Dancing and the Dreaming" for our wedding vows) but Astrid and I were silently saying everything right along with her. Bonnie may have painted gold bands onto our hands to in place of real wedding rings, but our first kiss was definitely real.

After Bonnie finally went to bed later that night, worn out from the excitement, and the other toys had to dispersed to allow us some privacy, Astrid and I stayed up talking late into the night, leaning up against Toothless for comfort's sake. Eventually Astrid nodded off, but I couldn't help but think how fortunate I was to be where I was. I was in a permanent home, with an actual identity, my best friend, and a wife who loved me. What more could a toy ask for? Maybe the repaint caused some things to go away, like the freedom of not having to be a particular person, but the things I gained from it made it all worthwhile.

Good night Hiccup," Astrid suddenly mumbled in her sleep.

"Good night Astrid," I whispered back, kissing her gently on top of her head. Then, slipping my arm around her, I leaned back and fell asleep too.

0o0

Hope y'all enjoyed that! If you want to see the actual wedding the link is below. Virtual Toothless cookies to all my lovely readers. See you next time! 3

watch?v=lP6vr1IL79E&noredirect=1


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